


Just Like Coming Home

by T0wer0fStrength



Series: Crystal Days and Starlit Nights [2]
Category: Manic Street Preachers, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T0wer0fStrength/pseuds/T0wer0fStrength
Summary: AU. Nick's had a rough day, and to boot, has a deadline next week for an essay he's not even looked at yet. Luckily, he can always count on his best friend Richey.
Relationships: Richey Edwards/Nicky Wire
Series: Crystal Days and Starlit Nights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653193
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Just Like Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of my AU series, Crystal Days and Starlit Nights; a non-linear series of short oneshots. They can be read in any order the reader chooses. Once again, this is an AU, and therefore some aspects of the real world have been, respectfully, omitted. - T0wer0fStrength xx

_Swansea, 1987_

_Ocean Rain_ had long played out, and the turntable spun idly around as Richey wrote. A cigarette lay forgotten in his other hand and had become a singular ash, as the soft mechanical hum mingled with the patter of rain and occasional click of high heels on the pavement below as well as Nicky’s breathing, so gentle and soft as he slept. He’d curled his lanky frame around the narrowness of the bed, and when Richey turned around to check on him, he thought about…how.. _angelic_ his friend looked. Of course, within a matter of hours, he’d be up and about, bleary eyed and asking for coffee, complaining and searching for the nearest fruit machine, but for now, he could pretend. Seeing Nick snuggled in his duvet, on his bed, in his tiny shoebox room, made him feel a certain kind of way; one he couldn’t quite put into words. It was like seeing his mam and dad and sister. It was like sitting down with a book on the living room settee and cuddling his dog. It was, it was just like that. Just like coming home. It just felt…right; like all was right with the world if for a few moments. He looked upon him for a little longer, then shrugged himself out of it, and returned to his, well, Nick’s, essay, after a hasty sip of vodka from a bottle stowed away at his feet. He’d have to fight Nicky to get his bed back tonight, anyway.

There’d been a knock at his door earlier that evening. Nick had stood in the narrow corridor outside Richey’s room looking a little flustered and a little more rain-soaked, his arms full of now-damp textbooks and scrap paper.

“Come in, Nick.”

“Th-thanks, Rich.”

“I’m not going to just shut the door on you, am I?” said Richey, doing his best to subtly kick a bottle of vodka under the desk, out of sight. “Put those down,” he nodded towards the books. “I’ll get some coffee on. Now, what’s the matter?”

“N-nothing really. I’m alright.” Said Nicky as he took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“You don’t look alright.”

“Just knackered honestly. I just wanted some company while I got my work done…” He lay back onto the bed, long legs sprawling upwards against the wall like climbing ivy.

“Just rest here for a bit, alright? You can borrow some of my clothes if you like. You look drenched. I’ll be back in a minute.” Said Richey as he closed the door and headed towards the kitchen.

When he returned with coffee, Nicky had changed and had folded his clothes neatly over the radiator, next to a spray-painted white shirt they’d made together the previous day that read, stencilled from magazine cuttings _DESTROY WORK._

“Go on,” he said as he handed Nicky a mug and took a seat next to the desk. “How’d the date go?”

Nicky covered his face. “I don’t want to talk about it. She…I’ve realised I’m never going to get a fucking girlfriend…c-can we start on this essay instead? Please? The, the deadline’s this week. I’ve been really stupid…I’ve not even done the reading.”

Richey wanted to shake him at times like this, but instead, he nodded slowly. “That’s alright. I’ll help you.”

He talked him through several chapters, soundtracked by Bowie and Echo and The Bunnymen, but by around ten it was evident Nick’s attention was wavering and he’d opted to nap while Richey planned out a writing structure, and by twelve, he’d already written the first five paragraphs himself, not wanting to disturb his sleeping friend.

At one, Richey put down his pen and looked back over to the bed. Surely Nick wouldn’t mind if he slipped in beside him? He shifted the duvet slightly and carefully lay himself down, when his hand brushed the soft skin of Nicky’s stomach. In sleep his t-shirt had ridden up slightly. He flushed and yanked his hand away.

“H-hello?” Nicky slurred.

“Fuck, sorry.” Richey whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’ll get out and head home...”

“Don’t be silly. Go back to sleep. It’s okay. Stay here,” he stifled the urge to say _please_. “That essay’s almost done. Just needs a conclusion.”

“You, didn’t…” Nicky yawned, “have to write it for me…”

“It’s okay. I wanted to write it for you.”

“Th-thank you so much…”

“Hey, I had nothing better to do.”

Nicky exhaled and shuffled a little closer to Richey. “Why did you pull your hand away?”

“I didn’t mean to touch you. It was an accident.”

Nicky’s heart sank. “Oh.”

“I mean,”

Nicky sat up. “Hypothetically speaking…would you…”

“Would I what?”

“Hold me?”

“Of, of course.”

“Will you hold me now?” He took Richey’s hands and placed them around his waist. “Come closer.”

Richey said nothing, and wrapped his arms tight around the taller man, who suddenly seemed so much smaller, resting his head on his shoulder, and willed the moment to never end. It was then he noticed Nick was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just feel like shit, y’know…rough day…we, we won’t talk about this in the morning.”

“It’s alright.” Richey freed one of his arms and wiped his tears. “Hey. For now though, what’s this called? Can’t be spooning ‘cause you’re bigger than me.”

Nicky giggled. “More like rucksacking.”

“You make it sound...sexy.”

He was laughing now. “Shhhhut up. Go to sleep.”

That night, Richey slept better than he’d ever before.


End file.
